


Persuasion

by Laine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laine/pseuds/Laine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an effort to prove her usefulness to her father, Queen Cersei Lannister attempts the ultimate test of her womanly wiles:  charming Stannis Baratheon.</p>
<p>Written for the <a href="http://gotexchange-mod.livejournal.com/1067.html">Game of Thrones Exchange Comment Fic Meme</a> on LiveJournal.  The prompt was:  Cersei/Stannis; seduction fail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persuasion

Queen Cersei Lannister drums her fingers on the tabletop, her nerves strung tight with annoyance and impatience. She nearly jumps from her seat at the loud burst of laughter at her left side- Robert, guffawing over something inane, spewing crumbs of bread into his beard. She feels her nose start to wrinkle, her mouth start to drop down into a scowl, but she checks herself and forces her expression back into one of absolute stillness.

There is no reason for this issue to be so complicated- but then, Robert wouldn’t be Robert if he could ever do anything the sensible way. Her father only wants one or two naval ships to bolster the defenses at Lannisport against smugglers and pirates; certainly not an outlandish request. But Robert has ignored each and every raven, taking one look at Lord Tywin’s seal and tossing the missives into the hearth without even bothering to read them. 

(In one of her own ravens to her father, Cersei had suggested that Lord Tywin simply ignore Robert’s requests for more coin until the matter was resolved. The reply she’d received was sharp and succinct, accusing her of being an overly-dramatic hothead with no sense of diplomacy.)

In an effort to prove her usefulness, Cersei had appealed to Robert directly, which resulted in nothing but a drunken shouting match and her unceremonious exile from his chambers. But lions never give up without a real fight, and more than Robert’s idiocy will be required to divert the Queen from her purpose. 

The small council filters into the chamber- Robert, as usual, did not trouble himself to attend their session- and Cersei locks her emerald gaze on the Master of Ships. When Stannis Baratheon makes eye contact with her, followed by an awkward bow of the head, she gestures to the seat beside her and smiles brilliantly. His hooded eyes glance about almost nervously, as though in search of any other vacant seat at the table- but he has no choice. When he finally shuffles toward her side of the table, she lets her smile broaden even more.

She’d disclosed her plan to Jaime earlier that day, and he’d nearly choked on his own laughter. “You intend to charm _Stannis Baratheon_ into helping Father?” he gasped, only laughing louder when her elbow jutted into his stomach.

“You don’t think I can do it?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Were it any other man, sweet sister, I’d be a fool to bet against you,” he drawled, leaning over to kiss the side of her neck. “But Stannis....” He laughs again, dodging the fist that she launches at his shoulder. “It will be the challenge of your life.”

That was all Cersei needed to hear.

“It is a pleasure to see you again, dear brother,” she begins, shifting over in her seat very slightly until her elbow barely brushes Stannis’s. “The court has missed you.”

“I’m afraid I cannot say the same, Your Grace,” he replies stiffly, eyes narrowing in Robert’s direction. The King focuses his attention on the shapely rear end of a comely servant girl, and Cersei watches Stannis wince as his brother’s hand extends to pinch the soft flesh.

When the Master of Ships glances back at her, Cersei takes care to lower her lashes and blush prettily, exhibiting all of the shame that her husband lacks. 

“Pay him no mind,” she says softly, inching just a tiny bit closer. “You know how he can be.”

“I do.” When she reaches past him for a carafe of wine, her golden hair brushing over his shoulder, she feels Stannis flinch. A glance across the table at Jaime, twitching with pent-up laughter, and she settles back down into her seat. 

“It’s why he needs sensible men around him, men with good heads on their shoulders...” She goes to refill Stannis’s wine glass, only to find that it has not been touched since the feast began. 

Her foot creeps toward him under the table, continuing until her ankle brushes against his. Stannis redirects his attention from Robert, whipping his bald head around to give her an incredulous stare. But Cersei just keeps smiling. 

“Men like you are a valued commodity here, my lord...whether or not my husband agrees.” She lifts her glass and raises her eyebrows- she can hear him grinding his teeth as he watches her-

Stannis raises his glass just for a moment, clinking it against hers, before placing it back down on the table without taking so much as a sip. 

Finally, he drops his head slightly and hisses- “Lord Tywin has already sent me a raven about the situation in Lannisport. I will take his concerns under advisement and act accordingly.”

That startles Cersei enough to straighten her posture and prompt the following- “Whoever said anything about Lannisport, brother?”

All she receives in reply is a harsh sweep of dark eyes over her face, that ascetic, contemptuous glare that can make even the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms feel like the lowest harlot in the whorehouse- she feels her cheeks burning, and her jaw clenches until her own teeth begin to grind together-

Stannis rises, offering her a jerky bow before moving down the table to speak with an unenthusiastic Renly. A rough cough-like sound catches Cersei’s attention; she looks up and fixes her eyes on a gleam of white and gold in the corner. Jaime has his forehead pressed against the wall, his shoulders shaking as he laughs and laughs. 

Her fingers tighten around the stem of her goblet, and she considers how satisfying it would be to launch this one at Jaime’s head, then to grab Stannis’s untouched glass and fling it at the sullen, solemn, damnable Master of Ships.

But instead, she slumps down into her seat and drinks one glass of wine, then another, then another, trying and failing to rinse her mouth of the bitter taste of defeat.


End file.
